I Can’t Get No Satisfaction-2
564 Words
On my twenty-second birthday, I went to a trendy gay bar I’d heard of and proceeded to get drunk and deflowered, all in one night. The loss of my virginity happened in an alley, and hazy memories revolved around my dangerous, slutty behavior. Apparently I’d begged for it, loudly, while I was snockered in the bar, and someone had taken me up on the offer and saved me from total embarrassment. Alcohol had made me into a porn star, and as a result, I never touched the stuff again after that.
Thankfully, the stranger who’d taken my virginity had been gentle, though it had hurt a little on entry. It was a wonder I could even vaguely remember his kind, round face, beard scruff, dark hair and eyes. He’d been twice my size and a little bit taller than me. I’d cried as I slumped against the wall when we were done. After helping me to stand and dress, he’d asked if he could see me home, concerned, I suppose, at my lack of composure and inhibitions. I’d been ashamed of my behavior and had told him I’d be okay on my own before leaving my dignity behind and running away. Liar.
I haven’t been back to that bar since then because I was mortified as f**k. And the man who’d been so kind had stirred something inside me even beneath the booze, and I’d felt pathetic. What would such a person want with me in the light of day? Admittedly, my self-esteem could use some work.
Instead, I focused on paying off my student loans trickle by trickle while working two jobs, because having a B.A. in Liberal Arts did squat for earning major income in the real world, not if you weren’t one of those shiny go-getters who practically shimmied up the corporate ladder. And for all my gung-ho attitude when I’d left home, the real world had sapped it all, and reality had hit me, hard. In short, my life was ho-hum and there was no satisfaction to be had anywhere, just like Mick Jagger had said back in the day. So I kept my head down and did what I had to do to survive.
One of my jobs was in the produce section of a huge natural foods store a mile from my apartment. I walked there or took the bus as needed since a car was not in my budget. I also worked at a used clothing shop on the other side of town. Neither of these jobs set the world on fire, but they made ends meet.
I’ve been doing both jobs for a long time. I was bored out of my mind, and though I longed for male companionship, I knew I was hardly a candidate for such. I hadn’t changed much, physically, in the years since college. I was still pretty skinny, but at least my skin had cleared up. My looks weren’t impressive as far as I was concerned. Pale skin and black hair that fell constantly into dull gray eyes did not a handsome man make. My jaw wasn’t square, and I was the furthest thing from rugged. The offers I did receive were usually from people who were more desperate than I was. No thank you.
There you have it. I was in a rut, and nothing made me happy. But hey, I paid my bills, let my neighbors borrow flour or whatever, and spent my time alone, watching cable and wishing things were different.
- Writer
